Perfect Illusion
by monstergalpri
Summary: The title shall speak for itself and so will my story.


Thunder rattled the roofs, the rain danced on the ground with heavy footsteps and the two agents of nature began their stormy song across the crags, the rocks, the moors and the heaths.

It was to this music that Heathcliff lived his nightmare so intensely: a life saturated with revenge, void of Cathy and her music.

Under closed eyes they did witness her marriage to Edgar, her death, his life avenging himself on those who hurt and her. His thoughts roared, his emotions charged his being violently, his knuckles curled in heavy hearted fists that peaked white, his mouth dry, teeth clenched, throat constricted - he had consumed himself in this state. Would he never be given peace? Had it been given in the form of old Earnshaw and Cathy just so it could be taken away as quickly?

They decorated his character with words they did not hurt, damaged and broke him: Demon, devil, gypsy, monster! and on the basis of what? his race? That his skin tone dared be a shade darker? his hair a pitch blacker? Perhaps he could credit his violent and vengeful disposition later on as being synonymous with those words yet there were worse men than him he knew that! In his absence of three years he had met the most vile of men, men he'd scorned, men who'd treat the wives they supposedly loved to that of servants - Heathcliff admitted to himself and to himself alone that while his treatment of Isabella had been distasteful, degrading at times, that it bore no indication of how he would treat Cathy! Dear God the thought alone of Cathy bearing the slightest scratch at his own hands would be unforgivable! He'd break his own arms before harming a hair on her! Isabella to him had barely been a person let alone wife and that was not because she was a woman, no! But because she bore a direct relation to the milk blooded weak morsel Edgar Linton and had Isabella been a man, Edgars brother perhaps, he would've mastered a plan to abuse him as well.

He silently thanked the spirits for giving him Nelly, Lockwood and Hareton as beings beside Cathy he respected and held affection for - how incredibly painful it would be if he should be surrounded by only those he hated! Nelly given her age difference and her being the sole being who raised him and Cathy, he saw her as a motherly figure albeit she was not dreadfully older so perhaps an older sister role suited her better and despite her meddlesome ways, gossiping fashion and biased approach to those around her, he felt the woman had no ill intention.

As for Lockwood, dear fine sir Lockwood! A fresh face, a clean slate! A human innocent, whose predecessors nor relations or himself bore any ill on Heathcliff, utterly refreshing! He liked Lockwood, a rather jumpy fellow, some frazzled nerves yet he found him a rather clever and amusing companion!

Hareton! Oh how he hungered to despise him on account of his father and yet he couldn't! For Hareton bore resemblance to both him and Cathy and every time he gazed upon his face he daresay, it was as if Hareton was a manifestation of both Cathy and him the same way a child resembles its parents and Heathcliff having been cheated out of the chance to create a family with Cathy, this struck his heart in such a melancholic way that both the sad sweetness of the notion seemed too much for him at times. Being on the topic of it, he remembered all those dreams he had before the winds changed and brought in the Lintons. He had dreamed, while lying next to Cathy's sweet sleeping form, her hair curled like wild seaweed across the pillow and the soft rise of her chest as the lips parted ever so slightly - his heart tore itself at this sweet memory, of marriage with her in such a beautiful union in every way and of having a family with her, he rather fancied having children with her that is and he'd prefer daughters for he knew they would be little Cathy's: free, feisty, sweet little hearts with headstrong minds and bossy temperaments! Like mother, like daughter!

OH HOW THESE FORGETTEN DREAMS MADE HIS HEART CLENCH! HOW COULD HE HAVE LOST HER! SHE WAS HIS CATHY! THEY HAD NO RIGHT O TAKE THIS HAPPINESS AWAY FROM HIM!

And again the stormy song played, a sound beating to his bruises, the thunder quickened, the rain fell harder and the sudden introduction of wind whipped violently. The windows rattled, branches hit against the house scratching and scraping at the surface for who? for him? and the storm within him commenced once again, the tightening of rage at the base of his throat, the fire of passion that burned at his heart and the sweet drips of love that flowed through him, the angst was his bloodline, his pain seemed so numb it had been a constant companion to him, more loyal than any human he had known, perhaps that's why he enjoyed its presence.

But now all these emotions consumed him like a hurricane and they swirled and swirled! His fists started hitting against the edge of the bed, his eyes sealed shut, he started kicking the corners of the edge of the bed till two soft hands were placed on either side of his cheek.

His eyes flashed open to reality. Cradling his face was Cathy. Not a ghost or mirage. But in flesh. He slowly touched her arm and lo behold it had a pulse with warm blood coursing through.

She smiled and giggled while stroking his cheek, "Heathy, it was a mere nightmare, a vicious dream, you've had so many recently, are you not ill, hmmm?"

He swallowed, his eyes never leaving her and then as the final roar of thunder cracked making Cathy jump, he instinctively wrapped his arms around her. Giggling again she said, "Dear lover of mine, I'm not scared of nature's storm, there's such a violent beauty in it."

Sighing at his unconvinced demeanor she decided he'd only understand with a firm scolding by her of course.

"Heathcliff listen to me carefully, what you experienced now was a mere dream, a violent, horrible nightmare born from your deluded insecurities that you might lose me. We have been married 5 years my love, remember we ran off when Hindley returned? We live in a small town, off the grid from where all those who oppressed us could never find us and we have a child, a baby, an infant girl whom we both adore now is that not enough to let the horrors of your mind rest easy hmmm?"

And then it all flooded through him, he remembered, oh how he remembered! He had fallen prey to his own mind and its horrible ideas that had gripped him so violently that he had forgotten his reality! She had not married that Linton boy, there had been no Edgar or Isabella or Linton! Oh the raw ecstasy that erupted in him!

How his hopes had become his reality and it swelled his heart with joy, no longer was there a hurricane of pain within him but the lightness of happiness dancing in him, his veins become vessels of sunlight, his heart beat with an excited rhythm, his throat now held a song and his eyes were so warm, so kind and so very adoring as it rested on Cathy and then to the crib he had not noticed before. He had to see her to believe she existed and with that he reluctantly let go of Cathy and quietly ventured to the small heartbeat swathed in wool and upon seeing her he could not hold back the tears that overtook him. Her precious face had Heathcliff's rich black curls, his stern, straight nose but her mothers long lashes and sweet cherry lips, full cheeks that were quite puffed at this moment. He bent down to gently place a kiss on her sweet forehead and retreated back to the bed where Cathy was already half asleep. Laying down beside her, he needed to be close to her and so he wrapped his left arm around her waist and the other curled around her head of curls while nuzzling her neck, kissing it gently while her stray locks tickled his face and with the validation of his reality he slept peacefully with the two heartbeats he would die for safely in that one room. He knew now that he no longer had to yearn or hope or dream for he had been blessed with what he had always wanted and that was her, always her.


End file.
